


My Christmas Angel

by ColossalMistake



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Original Character(s), Parahuman Fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColossalMistake/pseuds/ColossalMistake
Summary: Holidays are great fun, especially when you're a kid.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	My Christmas Angel

**12/20/2002:**

Hiya journal!

I was gonna start with hiya diary but you’re not really a diary are you? Mom said I can’t take my diary with me in case I lose it somewhere, but you’re a journal so that’s different. You’re going to be packed last, right on top of my puffy Legend jacket so I’ll ~~defen~~ … ~~difen~~ …never ever lose you.

Hopefully I won’t lose that jacket too. It’s going to be really super duper cold on our vacation, lots of snow and ice and the mushy stuff that isn’t proper snow but isn’t ice either. I’m not sure what that’s called but that’ll be there too. Ben probably knows, Mom took him on the same trip a few years ago when I was too little to go, but he’s being mean and slammed his bedroom door in my face even though I kept asking really nicely.

Oh right, the trip! We’re going to Europe for Christmas! I’m gonna learn how to ski!

It sounds really complicated.

But I’ll try!

And if it gets too hard then I can just go exploring or something I guess. Europe’s old, right? There’s must be stuff there to find. Like a cape’s secret lair hidden in the mountains. That’d be cool. Steph keeps saying I’m stupid looking for things like that but she’s probably just jealous that she has to stay in school. I’ll take some pictures for her. Maybe she’ll be less upset afterwards.

Need to remember to pack that as well. Kind of hard to take photos if I leave my camera behind.

And pens too, the nice ones with gel, need to pack them. Maybe some snacks.

…I should have started packing earlier.

I better start doing that before Mom finds out that my bags are still kind of empty. Talk to you later, journal! We’re gonna have a great vacation together!

Love, Melissa.

**12/27/2002:**

I’m freezing but in a good way!

We’ve been skiing, and exploring, and looking at all the Christmas lights, and there’s so much snow! It’s all over the place. Europe is so much colder than back home.

Okay, one thing at a time. Mom gets cross when I go too fast and don’t explain things. She already got cross at me once today because I couldn’t say the country’s name properly, but Dad said it was okay to just keep calling it Europe so long as I did it quietly.

It’s just really difficult to slow down when there’s so much going on. I haven’t even updated you for like a week which was really naughty but I’m doing it now so that makes it better.

Right, one at a time. We’ve been here for a few days now, staying at a hotel in this big city. I can’t spell the city’s name but I know it starts with an L. It’s so beautiful. Lots of tall buildings that light up at night, with great big arches of fairy lights strung between them. Not as tall as some of the buildings back home, but these ones have snow on top so they’re cooler.

When I look out the hotel’s window at night the entire city is like a gigantic snow globe.

Not as much snow as the skiing place though. All the hills there were covered in a great big fluffy blanket of white. I didn’t really understand skiing, the teacher tried to be nice but he kept going on about pizzas and French fries which just made me really hungry so I wandered off to take photos instead.

It was difficult though, taking pictures of people skiing down the hill. They moved too fast, especially the ones with really tight clothes on. One man’s outfit looked like Eidolon’s costume and he did a backflip on his snowboard. I don’t think it was the real Eidolon though. He probably doesn’t like snowboarding.

But the absolute bestest part is the markets. Underneath the tall buildings people have set up these old wooden stalls and they sell all kinds of things. Shiny things, and sparkly things, and things that play music…

And food. There’s so much food. They have all these meats and the chefs put them into buns for you which was nice of them. Although I might have used a little bit too much apple sauce because it dribbled down my jacket when I took a bite, and I had to go back to our room to change. Mom really wasn’t happy after that. But the smell is so strong you can almost taste the roast pork from the front of the hotel anyways so it worked out.

It’s all so Christmasy.

Is that a word? It should be.

Anyways, this will have to do for now. I wanna go back out in the markets again and hear all the carols. I don’t recognise most of the songs but it’s fun to clap with them.

Oh, and I’ll take a picture of the crowd outside too! A whole load of people were gathering in the town square nearby, next to this big angel statue. It makes wonderful music. Dad thinks there are some speakers hidden inside.

See you later, journal!

Love, Melissa.

**12/28/2002:**

Merry late Christmas, journal!

It’s only been one day since I last remembered to update you, so I’m getting better! This will have to be a quick update though, there’s so much still going on and I don’t want to miss any of it.

Turns out in this part of Europe, they celebrate Christmas for a whole week after the actual day, and everybody is invited to play. All the decorations stayed up in the hotel which was weird because Mom never lets us leave them up after Christmas day, and then a whole bunch of people got together in a parade that went up and down the city. I joined in, and some nice lady gave me a hat with a bell on it. I haven’t taken it off yet. Mom hates it.

The markets are still there, and they’re still just as busy. I saw some capes in the crowd too!

I think. Maybe they were just normal people wearing funny hats too. Doesn’t really matter. My hat is the best.

It’s magic.

I know that sounds silly, but it’s true. Remember that music playing statue? It’s not a statue anymore! 

So we’d just finished walking with one of the parades, and they ended in front of the statue. Lots of the parades have been ending there. Makes sense, it’s a really nice place. Anyways, there were all these news vans there and reporters talking about things in lots of languages that I didn’t know, but they all seemed really happy. I had my camera too and there was still film left, and if they were all taking pictures then I’d want to take some too, so I told Dad and he helped me sneak past the crowds to get to the statue. 

Up close it’s even more beautiful. I thought it had clothes draped over it, like the old Roman clothes, but when you really look they were actually wings. It had another pair of wings circling around its head like a halo.

And everyone knows that a Christmas hat is the best thing to wear under a halo, so I gave Dad my camera, and climbed the statue.

Its feathers were really sharp. Like, I thought they’d be all soft and fluffy, like that one pigeon who got stuck in our yard, but these ones cut my hands up when I climbed them. My mittens have holes in now. Mom was really mad when she saw that.

But it was so worth it. I stuck my hat on top of the angel’s head, Dad took a picture, and then he dropped my camera. I wanted to tell him off until he pointed at the statue.

It was looking directly at me. The singing was majestic.

I might have fallen off because it was cold and my fingers were numb, not because I was scared or anything. But before I hit my head on the floor, it caught me.

My Christmas angel caught me.

Some of the police got super upset with us, but the reporters kept shouting questions instead. Dad translated a couple, and he told me everyone was really excited about the angel, that it had come down from the moon.

I think he was making that part up. You can’t live on the moon, it’s made of cheese.

Since then, it felt like the whole city has come out to see her. The angel has been helping out here and there, moving cars that slid off the road or clearing snow away to make things safer. But it always comes back to the square, to sing along with everyone. I’m always there in the crowd, waving at it. I get a smile in return. My angel doesn’t smile at just anybody.

She always comes back for me.

I really need to go now journal, but I promise to write in you more often.

Love, Melissa.

**00/00/0000:**

The parades are bigger. It feels like the whole country is taking part. Nobody has wound down. We’re all too excited to stop.

More tourists are coming and going. We’re supposed to go soon. I don’t want to leave.

Mom wanted us to go. She wouldn’t explain why. She never does. She always hated the angel.

My angel.

I tried to tell Mom why we had to stay. She didn’t care. I tried so hard.

The angel’s song helped me. Words came out of the beautiful melody. Showed me how to convince her. 

I tried again. We argued. She kept shouting.

It took time but she’s quieter now. Doesn’t mind us staying here any longer. Doesn’t mind much anymore.

My angel is on the TV. People from the news are showing her off. That’s good. It wouldn’t be fair if anyone was left out.

A Christmas present for the whole world.

The snow melted. It’s nice and warm now. Dad left me with some of the other people here to go light a great big bonfire. I didn’t mind. We’re all warm together.

Everyone’s so nice.

Merry Christmas journal. I hope you get everything you wished for.

I did.

**01/01/2003:**

I don’t know what’s going on. There are men with guns everywhere and I tried to go back to the hotel but they wouldn’t let me. They gathered everyone up and forced us into this pen they built in the middle of town. Like, for animals, but we were in there instead. There are big chain-link fences everywhere with barbed wire on top, and whenever I try to ask them a question they shout back with words I don’t know.

We were all so happy and then they appeared. The Christmas tree in the middle of town is all burned up, and I bet they destroyed it. Everything has been going wrong since the soldiers arrived.

All my clothes are torn and dirty. My puffy jacket has stains on it.

I don’t understand. Nobody will tell me anything. The other people here are all kept separated from me. The soldiers locked me up in a little room all alone.

They won’t tell me where Dad or Mom are.

I’m sorry journal. Some of your pages are a bit ruined from the rain now.

They let me keep you, at least. And my camera. That’s something. I took a photo of the pen. Metal fences surrounded by tattered Christmas decorations. I don’t know how they got damaged. I don’t know anything, but they keep asking me questions. Some capes come in from time to time, asking me lots of things that I don’t know. 

They keep asking about my angel. It left a long time ago. That doesn’t seem to be good enough for them. None of them seem happy with me.

Except for one nice lady. All the other soldiers ignored my questions, but she told me what day it was earlier.

Happy New Year, journal. Maybe 2003 will be better.

Maybe they’ll let me go home.

**01/02/2003:**

I think I’m going mad.

The men with guns still won't let me leave and I still don’t have any good answers for them. I think they’re getting annoyed. I thought they’d be happy now that I stopped asking them questions. Mom seems happier whenever I stop talking.

Wherever she is.

More capes came to see me. They demanded that they get to look through you. Then they got mad at some of the entries.

I don’t even remember writing some of what was in there. It’s written in my handwriting, but when I think back I can’t even remember putting the words on the paper. There was even more rain. Sorry again journal.

I can’t stay here. All they do is put me through tests and questions and I can’t answer most of them and then it’s back to the little room.

Dad and Mom might be out there. Maybe they found my angel.

I want to go home.

There’s a tiny crack in the back corner of the room. They built this place really quick, and missed a few pieces on the way. It would be a tight fit, but I think I can squeeze through.

I saw Legend up in the sky a few times, watching over everything. He’s one of the good guys. If I squeeze out and tell him that they won’t let me go home, then he’ll help. He has to help.

I’ll wait until bedtime. It gets dark really early here, so that shouldn’t be too long. If Legend is still up there, I’ll ask him for help.

But if he flies off again, then I’ll... I don’t know. There’s a crack in this room, so maybe there’s a crack in the fence too?

It’s better than staying here. I’ll try and go back to the hotel. Dad and Mom are probably waiting there for me. She’ll be mad that I took so long to get back, but maybe she’ll be madder at the soldiers for not letting me leave.

Thanks for sticking with me journal. Sorry I didn’t take better care of you.

Love always, Melissa.

* 

The final page turned, and he snapped the tattered book shut. Its spine had been bent, and the pages were stained, but it still served its purpose dutifully.

This was why they were here. The capes up there, in their fancy outfits, they didn’t have the stomach for something like this. They would have read the same words as him, and faltered, falling short at a time when even a moment’s hesitation meant the difference between a life saved or another funeral.

He’d almost been guilty of the same sin. The necessity of it was plain to see, but that didn’t make the act itself palatable. If it hadn’t been for this little book, worn and beaten, he might not have had the will to go through with it himself.

Carefully, he slid the journal into one of the pouches lining his ballistic vest. Another weight, to counterbalance the rifle hanging from his other side.

“Captain!” A voice boomed from behind him. He turned slightly, thoughts still on the book. One of his comms officers was jogging up the hill, a note clutched tight in their hands. Old fashioned messengers would have to suffice for now, after he’d lost his radio fighting a baker who had seemed perfectly normal right up until the man tried to shove a bread knife through his lung.

“Message for you Sir!” The junior officer fired off a crisp salute.

“At ease. Show me.” His subordinate visibly relaxed before handing over the slip of paper.

A condemnation, hastily written out by their superiors.

_Sector lost. Sweep and clear._

Two years of fighting against people, good people, whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d never liked it.

He’d read that little girl’s words a hundred times by now. Not much older than his own daughters. The book had been abandoned and he never learned what happened to her, but he couldn’t imagine that she’d be happy living life as a walking time bomb.

So he’d do it for them. Provide them with the mercy they desperately needed. A way out of a nightmare.

“Get the men ready. We’re moving in five.” Dismissing the officer, he gazed out at the remains of Lausanne. Too many people had wrung their hands, dismissing the severity of the problem, and now the city was hell on earth.

The necessity of taking such decisive action had been made clear, time and time again. So he'd do this for them. An end to the misery was the least they deserved.

As the sounds of marching footsteps echoed behind him, Captain James Tagg tapped the pouch on his vest, and descended back into the madness.

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the The Parahuman Fanzine. You can download the rest of it with all it's fancy formatting here:  
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1VQ9T7PBrkVZ719EmiaXMA6pZgzgl1K9GTmOxsEXLgBY/viewform?edit_requested=true


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